Playing Pieces
by Kaleyanne
Summary: The Ellimist takes a short break to ponder over his favorite pawns, revealing some interesting facts about just how far his influence extends. Slightly revised and reformatted as of 052105.


**Playing Pieces**

"Hmm," I murmured.

I looked across the 'gameboard.' In reality, I was 'sitting' outside of space-time and looking at a collection of planets: the Andalite homeworld, the Yeerk homeworld, the Taxxon homeworld, the Hork-Bajir homeworld, Earth and Leera. On all six worlds, my playing pieces and Crayak's clashed. Leera had the least fighting, Earth had the most.

I smiled. I was proud of my main pieces' work on Leera. The Yeerks' first major defeat. Their victory on the Hork-Bajir world and alliance with the Taxxons had made them arrogant. I was hoping the failure on Leera would take down a few egos. I knew it wouldn't bother those in their hierarchy, the vissers and the Council of Thirteen, but some of their subordinates...

"Ooooh, don't be getting too arrogant yourself, O Brilliantly Losing One," an amazingly annoying voice to my right said.

I sighed: Crayak's faithful servant. "What is it, Drode?"

"Ohhhhh, nothing much," he drawled. "Just reminding you: don't get ahead of yourself. Don't want your precious humans and Andalites and Hork-Bajir to end up like those Inner Worlders and Jallians, do we?" He smiled sweet poison. "Or worrrrrrrrrrrrse..."

The Drode is a master of mind games. A wild card in a game that doesn't necesarrily use cards. He has been given the ability to read minds by his master, and to be able to exploit anything he finds there, in order to drive a person mad.

Luckily, I've been dealing with his taunts so long that they no longer bother me.

The Drode sighed. "You know, ever since that beast Elfangor croaked, you've been no fun." He dejectedly kicked at nothing. "You've got something up your sleeve, and I don't like it. Neither does Lord Crayak."

I chuckled a little. "Why, Drode, don't be foolish. I don't even have sleeves."

"Oh, ha ha," he replied. "You're a regular Marco, Toomin the Ellimist. Except your dam is long dead, not possessed."

He left, seeing I would not be able to satisfy his need to destroy a person's sanity.

Vicious little sadist.

Still, he planted an idea in my mind. I zoomed in on Earth, focusing on the young human male named Marco.

Marco was in the park, walking his stepmother's dog. He wasn't happy about it, he hated the dog, but Nora Robbinette had promised not to tell his father that he had gotten home so late the previous night. He was planning to meet his best friend, Jake, for company. They would walk their dogs together before an Animorph meeting.

Marco was an interesting person. As a young child, he had been gentle and trusting. Somewhat naive. Then reality hit in a big way.

His mother was 'possessed,' as the Drode said. By a Yeerk. The Yeerk had faked her host's death and left Earth. After a brief encounter with the aforementioned 'beast Elfangor,' he had discovered her continued existence.

But the 'death' had hardened him. Seeing her fate steeled his resolve. He firmly believed in, as a Hork-Bajir might say, 'Free or Dead!' He would ruthlessly allow her to die if it meant ridding the world of Visser One. He would hate himself forever for it, but he would do it.

A brilliant strategist, champion liar, paranoid, ruthless, and comedic to a fault, he was, in many ways, the perfect guerilla fighter.

And his preferred morph for both battle and strength was a gorilla. A little pun on my part.

Marco was currently dragging the poodle towards the jungle gym where Jake was. Euclid wanted to continue barking at asquirrel. Marco didn't really care.

He greeted Jake with a smart remark, and Jake laughed and shook his head. He was used to his friend's stupid jokes. Had heard them all his life.

Jake, Jake, Jake. In a similar situation as Marco, except he saw the Controller in his family everyday. A little more feeling. Responsible. Smart. A good leader; he had learned when to use Marco's paranoia, Cassie's morphing talent, Tobias's raptor abilities, Aximili's knowledge and his cousin Rachel's fighting instinct.

Perhaps too well.

Jake was not a child. He had grown up even faster than the others, having the burden of decision making on him so long. I sympathized. I had led my people, the Ketrans, for a long time. I understood the pressure to do what is right, and the anguish when you do something wrong.

Jake was key to my plans. He held my other main pieces, and several of my secondary ones, together. Jake was the leader, Jake was trusted, respected, admired, and almost feared by his opposing number on Crayak's side.

Still, I feared for his sanity sometimes.

Jake had turned his conversation with Marco. Remarked on the fact that Rachel's violent temper was worrying him.

"Yeah, no kidding," Marco was saying. "That little starfish ordeal was testimony to just how messed up she is."

Ah, Rachel.

Rachel was fair game. She could become Crayak's at any time. An accident. Both Crayak and I had wanted control of her. She was another impasse. A skirmish between Arbron's free Taxxons and Visser Thirty-two's Controllers long ago had decided that she would be mine.

I had not expected to win. Nor had Crayak expected to lose. He had named the Taxxons as our combatants because they were where I failed most. I had agreed to it because I had a way of winning without Rachel anyway. A plan.

Surprise.

Using an amazing strategy I would admittedly not have credited to him, Arbron had proven that the underdog can win. I was, of course, delighted. Whoever controlled the Warrior Princess, the Goddess of War... their goal would be that much closer.

Not even I know the future for certain.

Yet, I pitied this brave girl. Currently, she was helping her sister Jordan learn a forward roll. Gymnastics. I smiled. I had almost thought Rachel had given the hobby up.

I was pleased. Very muchly so. Yet, I knew, when Jake called them into battle... The seemingly normal girl, with good grades and a stylish wardrobe, the good sister whom Jordan and Sara trusted beyond belief...

When told, she would fight.

She would kill.

Marco would kill. So would Aximili. Tobias killed daily. And yet... none of them got the insane rush, the almost sickening pleasure she got from it.

_Love the warrior, not the war._

An Andalite saying Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill often repeated to himself. Aximili's brother, Elfangor, had often told him that, when Aximili had shared his dreams of being a great war hero like his brother. Aximili had never quite understood his brother's wry cynicism whenever he brought it up.

Until now.

Aximili understood now. Too well. Understood the pain of losing a loved one to war, the sickening feeling of knowing you had killed, everything gory that went with the glory.

He hated it.

And yet, he never backed down. He was always on the front lines, just behind Rachel but ahead of Marco and Jake. He felt responsible. Knew it was his species that had opened Pandora's Box, and released the Yeerk threat onto the unsuspecting galaxy. Knew it was his species that had to put them back in their place. Knew it was his brother's memory he had to honor. Knew Elfangor would have wanted him to be brave, and strong, and true.

And perhaps, that maybe Elfangor would have wanted him to learn of the Andalites and humans' faults, and to choose his actions with that in mind. To rise above his species'naturaland taught vanity. To learn of the humans' good points, and to treasure the other world and family Elfangor loved so dearly.

Aximili lived every day of his life, hoping his brother would be proud of him, and enjoying his friendship with his brother's son.

Elfangor's son. The boy I have tortured so. Given such a hard life to.

Tobias.

Tobias, who had the mother of all identity crisises. Are you the species which you are born, or the one which you appear to be? Almost Shakespearean, to use a figure humans would be familiar with.

Tobias was learning to deal with this dual identity. Had almost completely come to terms with it when Crayak used his piece Taylor to torture him afresh.

He wasn't exactly sure what he was anymore.

He did the most in the war. Seemed to suffer the most. And yet, gained from it. Not as much as Rachel, but still a lot.

He was freed of the family that had hated him, and in Aximili, his uncle, and the others, found a family who cared. True friends. Love. A most precious gift.

He feared for the one he loved above all others. He feared for what would happen to Rachel. But believed that whatever the case, as long as they were together, as long as they loved, all would be fine.

I had a special place in my heart for Tobias. He was one of my most influential pieces. An icon, almost. His enemies knew, when Tobias appeared, the Animorphs were here. And all that was free of the Hork-Bajir race owed him that freedom.

Well, modesty aside, I helped.

I looked for Tobias and Ax, and found them waiting in Cassie's barn. The Animorphs' traditional meeting place. Cassie was also there, of course. Coaxing a wolverine to swallow a pill.

Cassie was the anchor. She helped keep the group sane, helped them from losing themselves in ruthlessness. Had she not intervened, Rachel, Marco, Tobias, Jake and Aximili would have lost themselves many times over.

Not only that, she kept them in their proper time-space location.

Including Cassie in my little scheme was one of my more brilliant moves. (Once again, I throw all modesty to the wind.) Knowing my opponent as well as I do, I knew he could manipulate time. And that he would.

Cassie is a sub-temporally grounded anomaly. Simply put, that means that she cannot exist outside of her designated space-time location. Not for very long, anyway. Certain people, objects, even some ideas are made into anomalies like this, to keep time flowing smoothly. By who, I do not know.

By putting Cassie onto my team, I guaranteed that any time disruption made by Crayak would eventually fall apart, and/or be changed enough (beyond our control) to be like the correct timeline. I was waiting almost eagerly for him and the Drode to discover this. I anticipated him realizing I had him out-maneuvered.

Another advantage to Cassie, as I have pointed out, is that she keeps the others from becoming the enemy. From losing themselves to the fight.

She keeps Rachel from going berserk, Tobias from losing his humanity, she allows Ax to keep his honor, Jake his sanity, and she keeps Marco from hating himself over his mother too much.

She is too important to lose.

I smiled, as I took a last peek at my main playing pieces. I had others, but these were my most often used. My most powerful. And when used in conjunction with certainothers, they were even more valuable.

My oldest, longest-running piece is easily the Chee who calls himself Erek. Of course, seeing as how I created the Pemalites, and they the Chee, I control all two hundred and thirty-eight of them. But Erek was one of my favorites.

He was at the local mall, sitting and chatting with a group of friends. Some Chee, some not. Some Controllers, some not. He was careful in what he was saying. Careful not to reveal anything. He wore deception well.

Erek hadn't always been a somewhat cynical, at ease with lying and not telling the entire truth sort of person. He had started out as a somewhat childish, impulsive, even naive Chee. He mourned the loss of his innocence so long before, and not a day went by where he didn't wish he had never needed to come to Earth. He wished that he was still on his home planet, with all of his friends alive and happy. I sympathized. I remembered all to well when enemies had chased me and my people from our home.

Outwardly, Erek laughed at a joke a human-Controller named Jon, or Eliss 476, whichever you prefer, made. Inwardly, he fretted over the mission he would inform the Animorphs of in an hour or two.

One of Erek's most endearing qualities to me was his determination to do all he could for his new home. He'd spent five thousand years, quietly, subtly, helping humans ease their conflicts. Dropping a hint about a raid here, short circuiting a weapon there. He had told the Animorphs the Chee as a group had never interfered in human affairs. He neglected to mention that he, as an individual, interfered almost daily.

It reminded me of... me.

Another of my secondary pieces was the Hork-Bajir seer, Toby Hamee. Toby was currently leading her people swiftly through the trees, on her way to raid a Yeerk outpost.

Toby was a hard, ruthless leader. She was wise. She knew what had to be done, how it had to be done, and that she would probably be the one to do it. It didn't bother her, because she knew she had a duty to her people. Something I admired in one so young. She had a deep wisdom, a wisdom I had waited millennia before gaining.

She was also mildly psychic. Very mildly. Only psychic enough to know, a) that something was going to happen or, b) how to prepare for something that was going to happen. A useful talent, but it often frustrated her. She despaired over not knowing how to harness her talent, or how to use it to help her people. She despaired, quietly but profoundly, when she failed to find a solution to the Hork-Bajir's problems.

And once you earned her trust, you earned her protection, her friendship, her love, and, above all, her loyalty. She was nothing if not loyal. Once she pledged her loyalty to someone, she would defend them to the death. Toby was a brilliant, fascinating young woman.

And I suppose she could credit that to my older pieces... Three of my favorite pieces, my 'Andalite Trio.' Elfangor, Arbron, Aldrea.

Ironically enough, all had betrayed their species and become nothlits.

Then again, it is pretty ironic that the younger brother and cousinof one of Visser Three's most loyal Controllers, the son of Visser One, PrinceElfangor's brother and son, and a sub-temporally grounded anomaly had teamed up with a Hork-Bajir Seer descended from the leaders of their resistance against the Yeerks and an android who hadjust so happened to infiltrate the Yeerks _just in time_ tolearn that Visser One was about to fake her host's death and leave a friend of the selfsame android bereft of his mother... Really, how could anyonebe sure ofwhether or not I had planned it? Heh.

The Andalites are a proud, vain race. Easily able to be manipulated into evil. By all rights, they should have been Crayak's to control.

Except.

I had lived among the Andalites. I had named them. Despite all their modern idiosyncrasies, I was very fond of them.

I had descendants.

I had a total of five Andalite children. Star, Flower, Sky, Grass and Water. Three made it to adulthood. Flower, Grass and Water. Star and Sky died in infancy, and Water died in childbirth. But the important thing was that their children survived.

Elfangor (and Aximili, and Tobias) were descendents of my daughter Grass's son, Star, through Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen.

Aldrea (and her grandson, Jara Hamee, and his daughter Toby) could be traced back to Flower's son, Cloud. From Flower, a strong, ruthless leader, both Aldrea and Toby recieved their own ruthlessness.

Finally, Arbron was directly descended from Water's daughter, Tree. Tree was who had given Arbron his sense of humor.

I had demanded control of them, and Crayak had agreed.

I had, not without some guilt, led a total of four of my descendents, into being nothlits. And Aximili had considered at times.

Sheesh.

I had my reasons. Through Elfangor, Arbron and Aldrea, I influenced the humans, Hork-Bajir and Taxxons. Most Taxxon pieces had belonged to Crayak, humans were all first come, first served, and Hork-Bajir were difficult to control. Using my descendents, I could persuade more pieces into becoming mine. I was proud of the strategy.

But Elfangor and Aldrea were dead. Arbron would follow. His death was inevitable. The condition for controlling these particular three was that they would die before their mini-games ended. A harsh price, and it pained me deeply, but I had agreed.

I looked again over my playing pieces. Jake, Rachel, Marco, Cassie, Tobias, Aximili. And Erek and Toby. And once, Elfangor and Aldrea, and soon, Arbron would be re-introduced into the complicated web I had woven.

"Are you STILL contemplating those pawns, Toomin the Ellimist? The Great Cosmic Do-gooder? The only being who meddles more than an Andalite? The brilliant loser?"

The Drode. Sigh.

"No, I just finished," I said, almost pleasantly.

"Good," he said, cackling. "Lord Crayak wishes to discuss your next showdown. He wonders if, perhaps, Gafinilan and the Animorphs could rescue Mertil if Esplin Nine-Four-Double-Six had him."

"Send him in. I say we give it a shot."

Crayak appeared. "I positioned Esplin to view a video tape of Mertil."

I nodded. "Shall we immerse?"

Crayak rolled his(human) bloodredeye. "Must I humor you? Fine. On the other side."

Let the games begin. Or continue, if you prefer.


End file.
